A Mile From Water

A few Sunday’s ago I found myself sitting in the car with the children as my wife pursued a craving into a sub shop. Carla wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was that she craved, so I decided to stay in the car and keep the air-conditioning running and the baby asleep.

As I sat staring at the front of the building, my eyes ran over the newspaper machines stationed outside the door. One in particular caught my eye, and I decided to purchase the USA Today. As I began to scan the headlines, a large front page picture of a man sitting on a pier caught my attention. The man sat on the very edge of the pier, his feet dangling into nothingness, the dry pier extended into eternity behind him. The photographer was obviously standing on dry ground where the water should have been. Dry grass at least two feet high framed the scene. Beneath this picture sat the caption: “A mile from water.”

The story described the terrible drought that has been taking place along the Missouri river. According to the article, rain and snow levels at the source of the river have been very low over the last six years, and the reservoirs have been shrinking as a result. The picture that caught my attention was of a pier that once stood extending over 100 feet into the water, now standing alone, a mile of dry land separating it from the water’s edge.

The effects of this drought have extended from the streams and brooks that lay the foundation of this river, to the great merging where it joins the mighty Mississippi. The article told the stories of farmers who have used the river for over twenty years to irrigate their fields, now having irrigation systems that are without a water source. It told the story of businesses who could not ship their freight because the water is to shallow for river barges to pass safely. It told the story of communities that once held large fishing tournaments, now desolate of visitors because the fish are gone.

The article described so many problems, for so many people, affecting such a large part of the United States, simply because not enough rain has fallen at the river’s source. River managers interviewed for the story stated that it will take years for the people affected to recover from the drought. One person interviewed went so far as to say that it would take a rain of “biblical proportions” to reverse the problem.

As I read through the article, and the desperation of the situations began to settle upon me, I began to think of churches. I began to think of churches that once sat beside the river of life that now have found themselves stranded in a dry and desolate place, miles from the source that once was so near. I thought of pastors who once could easily draw from the river and pour out refreshments on their congregations, now struggling each week to find a message to preach. I thought of the congregations that once were excited and contented, now searching for a new church that isn’t suffering from drought.

I began to think of the missionaries who have seen their support dry up, not because of any problem where they are, but because the churches who support them are in a drought. I thought of the orphanages trying to reach out for more children, but strangled by finances because the funds have diminished. All of these troubles, simply because of a lack of rain up river.

The drought on the Missouri River was caused not by some cataclysmic event that rerouted the water, but instead by a few rain clouds each month that simply decided not to release what was inside them. I wonder, of the churches that have been struggling, and ministries suffering from spiritual drought, how many could say that there has been a shortage of prayer?

Each week we expect to step into church and drink deeply of the river of Life, but often fail to realize that it is our individual prayers that release the rain of heaven. Just as the clouds refused to release their rain, so we have refused to release our prayers. If clouds were like us, I could imagine their conversations as they race across the sky, “I know I should release this rain within me, but I just want to make it a few more miles today.” We allow ourselves to become so busy with our day-to-day activities that we fail to take time to pray. We race across the expanse of our lives attempting to go just one more mile, and to accomplish just one more task before exhaustion overwhelms us.

Our drive to accomplish one more thing not only undermines our personal prayer time, but also keeps us from corporate prayer meetings. Our lack of attendance then discourages those who did come, and our absence boldly declares that they need not make it a priority in their lives either. One by one the rain clouds cease to come to the church, and the river begins to recede. One cloud after another simply pass on overhead with no rain released. No end to the drought.

The people living in Montana, at the source of the Missouri river, see the drought as it affects their lives. The increased potential for forest fires, the diminished streams, brooks and lakes. However, few in Montana realize the drought they suffer affects the lives of millions downstream. Areas that are not personally suffering from drought, still suffer because of someone else’s drought. Their personal drought has caused the river to change.

Many times we do not see the affect of our prayerlessness except in our own lives. We notice we are more emotional, perhaps more edgy or coarse. Our spouse and children may notice we are more short tempered, or moody. Rarely if ever do we think of the people who are thousands of miles down river from our lives.

Just as one cloud’s refusal to rain does not cause a physical drought, so one person’s prayerlessness does not cause a community drought. However, in the book of First Kings, there is a story of a cloud that rose from the sea. One single solitary cloud, so insignificant one man described it as “no larger than a man’s hand.” One cloud rose to the call for rain and God multiplied it until an abundance of rain fell on dry and parched land. One cloud did not cause the drought, but God used one cloud to end it.

Just as God multiplied the cloud to grant rain to end the physical drought, so God can multiply one person rising to the call for prayer to end a spiritual one. One person who will decide to pray for rain. One person who will pray for God to minister in their church. One person who will pray for God to anoint their pastor, and bring salvation to the lost. One person who is willing to step from the crowd of lethargy, and make the time for prayer. God can use such a person, and God can multiply them until an abundance of rain, of biblical proportion, falls to cover the earth.

The greatest deluge begins with one cloud, and one drop of rain. Will you be that cloud? Will you release what God has placed within you?